


some truths are fire, some truths are ice

by sparklylulz (sparklyulz)



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Jon is Not Related to Sansa, No Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-08-01
Packaged: 2018-07-22 01:04:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 18,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7412383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparklyulz/pseuds/sparklylulz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa comes home and life for the Stark family turns upside down.</p><p>Or: the cliched Coffee Shop AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. north.

**Author's Note:**

> So... I became GoT trash extremely recently. I don't know how my idea for a dumb coffee shop AU went from doodling on paper to (currently) 10,000 words. I'm splitting this into chapters for flow. I apologize profusely for errors that you will undoubtedly find.
> 
> I listened to Sleeping At Last's Atlas: Year One on repeat while writing this, hence the title.
> 
> Huge shoutout to my wonderful boyfriend for designing the Winterfell Coffee House logo! (And also not for judging me for shipping these two so hard it hurts.)

 

* * *

 

 

> **Smaller than dust on this map**  
>  **Lies the greatest thing we have:**  
>  **The dirt in which our roots may grow**  
>  **And the right to call it home.**  

 

“ _In a press conference held this morning, Ned Stark, CEO of Winterfell Enterprises, announced the company’s plans to expand to three key new states: New York, Oregon, and California. Despite being heralded as the Coffee King in the North, this makes Stark’s first attempt to insert his brand in these major markets. The news comes on the heels of the merger of Lannister, Incorporated and the Baratheon Corporation, with both companies owning stock holdings in larger chains such as Starbucks and Dunkin Donuts properties._

_Stark, of course, first made headlines when he married Catelyn Tully, of the Tully’s Coffee dynasty, in a secret ceremony in Seattle, without her family’s knowledge. The pair now have five children, all of whom --”_

As the screen went black, Jon took a second to look at his pale reflection in the absence of light from the television. Before his most recent trip to New York, Ned told Jon he really ought to get a haircut sometime soon or people would start calling him Arya’s sister.

Five children.

It was technically true, and it didn’t sting as it once had to hear the words reported on a national news broadcast. When Ned took him in, Jon had been too young to fully remember his mother or father. Even now, the few memories he could claim all came from dusty photo albums stored in his closet. That had been before Ned founded Winterfell Enterprises, however, and before the media ever had heard of the small start-up coffee franchise in Maine. In the years which followed Ned's empire growing, the media quickly lost interest in his young ward, which suited Jon just fine.

He wasn’t like Robb, the famous and handsome corporate lawyer, living in New York, with hundreds of women dreaming of someday marrying him. Nor was he anything at all like Sansa, who giggled as she came out of glamorous restaurants every weekend in front of the paparazzi, always poised and composed. Arya, though not as hounded as Sansa, held a huge following on her social media accounts -- not that she particularly cared, her Tumblr was mostly dedicated to grunge and pastels -- a combination Jon would never understand. The only sibling seen even less frequently in the media than Jon was Bran, who apart from being whisked away to a private school in Silicon Valley, where he undoubtedly would end up creating a time machine or something, was somehow not seen as glamorous in his wheelchair. Rickon, still being in elementary school, was the only Stark child who couldn’t remember a life before the family business became a Fortune 500 company.

“Hey man, I heard the news on the way over this morning,” Sam’s soft voice caused Jon to tear his gaze away from the screen and look over to his best friend, pulling the shop door closed behind him. “I’m sure Cat’s thrilled.”

Jon laughed, but it was a sound with little humor. Catelyn Stark had never much cared for Jon -- and she certainly did not care for New York. She preferred to stay at the family home in Winterville unless she absolutely had to travel. Before Ned started traveling so much for work, he joked that they would become an old reclusive couple if Cat had her way. Privately, Jon thought that outcome was still likely.

“Ned thinks she’ll come around,” Jon shrugs. “She’s just wary of the Lannisters.”

Sam went to pull his wallet out to extract the usual amount of cash as Jon began to make his customary drink -- an Americano with three shots of espresso, because as Sam put it: “Medical school beat the weakness of sleep out of me.”

Though he was technically the third customer this morning, Sam was the first of the regulars to trickle through the door.

Jon was so accustomed to getting to Winterfell Coffee House every morning at 5:30 a.m. by now to open the shop alone that he could make the drink of any familiar early morning face he saw without asking or batting an eyelash.

Ghost was curled up in his customary spot in the large window, his ears twitching to the sounds of early morning. Sam placed his hand in the large Maine Coon’s white fur, causing a deep purr to fill the air.

Once the caffeine hit Sam’s lips, he perked up considerably. His overnight shifts at the local hospital were what brought him and Jon so close together to begin with, though Jon expected Sam had other reasons to keep coming back.

For the most part, Jon enjoyed being a barista, though he knew Catelyn didn’t particularly like the thought of Jon being the only one of Ned’s “family” to actually take an interest in the coffee business.

“Guess Sansa will be happy with this move,” Sam smirked at Jon. It was an inside joke that Sansa, despite outward appearances in the media, was an ice queen who rarely displayed any form of happiness even with her own family. “Wonder if she’ll marry her creepy boyfriend now and unite the dynasties?”

Jon scowled at the thought. None of the Starks particularly cared for Joffrey, probably not even Sansa deep down.

“Sansa isn’t mature enough to marry anyone,” he offered simply, turning to wash the dirtied dishes in the sink behind him.

It wasn't that Sansa was any less mature than other girls her age, but she wasn't ready for the shackles that came with marriage in Jon's opinion. Sansa could be incredibly selfish, something of an open secret in the Stark home, though no one bar Arya would ever say it out loud. 

She was also the socialite of the family. It was funny, in a way, how they all had their own defined roles. Robb was the eldest son and the most righteous of all Ned’s children, and also held a great sense of duty to his father's company and his own legacy. From an early age Bran cultivated his role of resident genius, while Arya relished in her capacity as the alternative and rebellious child. Rickon was the baby who each member of the family spoiled completely rotten with little remorse. Jon, the introvert, spent most of his life trying to stay out of the way as much as possible.

As he turned to dry his hands, he looked down at his phone to see Ned’s number lighting up the screen. They'd spoken last week before Ned left and he had promised to watch over the shop and help Catelyn with Rickon as he usually did when Ned was out of town. When Ned was away on business he rarely called anyone other than his wife.

“Hello?” Jon said, surprised both at Ned calling him this early and because he was in New York City, finalizing the expansion plans with Robb.  
  
“Jon? Listen, son, something’s happened.”


	2. south.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa woke up with her head pounding.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story will roughly be split between Sansa and Jon's POVs. Some chapters will be quite a bit longer than others as well.

> **If truth is north,**   **then I am true south.**  
>  **I can’t figure it out-**  
>  **God knows.**  
>  **Always looking up,**   **'til my eyes give up.**  
>  **That’s how I lost touch** **of who I am and who I was.**

* * *

Sansa woke with her head pounding. 

“Why's it so bright?” She slurred, struggling to open her eyes in the blinding white surrounding her.

Something wasn’t right.

She struggled to identify why everything felt so horribly off to her -- her disoriented thoughts could only come up with a bright oncoming light and the sound of metal screeching.

“Sansa!” She knew that voice. It was her mother’s. “Thank God, you’re awake.”

Her head felt so heavy, but she forced her eyes to open and found her mother, looking exhausted and terrified, watching her daughter carefully. Raising a hand slowly, she felt the tug of something at her elbow and a sharp pain.

“Careful, darling, or you’ll pull the IV out,” her mother’s shaking hands laid Sansa’s arm back down. “You’re okay, you’ve…. You’ve been unconscious for a few days.”

Days? The last thing she remembered was being in that club with Joffrey, drinking a few martinis, and fighting about… What had they fought about this time? She remembered it being serious. She’d taken his car--

“What?” Her mouth was so dry she could only rasp the words out.

After a moment, an ice chip was being placed carefully between her lips by her mother's shaking fingers. 

“You were in an accident, Sansa.” Catelyn's voice suddenly had a steely edge to it. “You had twice the legal limit of alcohol in your blood when you crashed Joffrey’s car into a bridge.”

The memory was so fuzzy, but her senses recalled fragmented pieces of the puzzle: she could feel the broken glass, smell the coppery blood. She raised her arm with no IV to touch the gauze wrapped around her forehead. 

“Is everyone okay?” She managed to say, hoping her mother would understand. She felt dizzy, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep her eyes open. 

“Yes, you were the only one involved,” she heard her mother’s voice begin, but it faded away as the comfort of sleep claimed her once more.

When she woke next it was to the sound of both her parents arguing.

“There was no need to call him, Ned. Who’s watching the shop in Eagle Lake?” Her mother said, the same steely note from before in her voice.

“He’s part of our family, Cat. The shop will be fine without him for a few days. Theon can manage. I wanted to make sure we were all here if anything happened,” her father’s gentle tone washed over Sansa and she instantly felt much more at ease.

“What did Cersei and Robert have to say?” Her mother changed the subject, though Sansa sensed the argument wasn’t over.

Her father sighed heavily, “Cersei was not pleased. She feels Sansa has been a negative influence on her son, who as she put it, ‘ _s_ _hould be training under Robert and Tywin, not partying with girls in clubs_.’”

Catelyn tutted at his words, “Rich coming from her. What does Jaime Lannister do all day and night?”

Choosing to ignore this barb, Ned said, “I think they may be right in a sense. Sansa has changed since she moved to New York for college. I’ve told the Baratheons that she will be spending the summer in Winterville to keep her out of the spotlight. The press is already having a field day with this story.”

“We have to protect her, Ned,” her mother said, worry creeping into her tone. “She’s just a child.”

“Sansa is 20, Catelyn. She needs to face repercussions for her actions, but they will be at my hand. Not the likes of TMZ.” Her father stated firmly.

Sansa chose that moment to feebly stir and pretend she had just woken.

“Mom? Daddy?” She said slowly, opening her eyes to see them properly.

Her mother stood at the end of her bed, looking careworn and stressed. Her dark auburn hair was haphazardly held in a bun with one of the hospital pens. Her father, however, looked put together as always in his three-piece charcoal suit.

Before either of her parents could say anything, the medical staff observing her entered the room and ushered them out while they performed their tests.

As she sat up and was examined by her doctor, she watched everyone through the glass windows of her room. All of her siblings -- and Jon, she added grudgingly -- were here. She felt something prick in the corner of her eyes at the sight of her family all huddled together.

The nursing assistant changed her bandages after the neurologist declared her free of any lasting damage, reassuring Sansa that her memories would return. Sansa didn't particularly care if they ever returned. As the kind faced woman finished, Sansa grabbed her wrist before she could move further toward the door.

“Will it scar?” She asked quietly, knowing that it was a vain and silly thing to say. Joffrey would not want her with a gaping scar across her forehead.

The woman smiled kindly, “Most of the wound is hidden under your hair, and if you use the creams we prescribe you, you’ll be right as rain.”

Sansa’s eyes flicked back to Jon, the brother she never claimed. The faint red scar running down his left eyebrow to his cheek was all Jon had left of his life before the Starks. She wondered if he ever felt self conscious about it.

As he raised his eyes to meet hers, she felt something in her stomach turn over and quickly pulled her gaze back to where the nurse was examining her IV.

Despite her parents’ questions, Sansa still couldn’t remember why she left the club or why she had taken Joffrey’s brand new Rolls out. The furthest her memory took her was the sound of rubber tires trying to gain traction on the slick road as rain continued to fall fast from the sky.

Her parents discussed the legal repercussions -- no license, a mark on her permanent record, a large fine -- and the necessity of an apology to the Baratheons.

“You’ll be coming home for the summer, possibly longer,” her father had said in his heavy and disappointed tone. “You’ll work off part of your debt in Eagle Lake with Jon.”

“Wait,” Sansa replied, horrified. “But my internship and--”

“You should’ve thought about that, Sansa,” her mother interjected. “Your behavior has gotten out of control, and your father and I are extremely worried. We can’t turn a blind eye any longer. _You almost died_. Don’t you understand that?”

The discussion ended there.

Arya left the next day to head back to Seattle, where she was staying with their Uncle Benjen for the summer, and Robb headed back to the firm after a quick peck on Sansa’s forehead and a rushed, “Glad you’re okay, sis.”

Rickon was too young to be in the hospital for long durations of time and spent a good deal of the following days with his nanny at her father’s condo in the city. Bran, who barely looked up from his notebooks the entire stay, wheeled himself next to her on her last day in the hospital.

“I’ve been going over your accident and your injuries, particularly your memory loss,” he said in his matter-of-fact way.

“What?” She asked, startled. “I was drunk, Bran. Then I hit a concrete bridge and slashed my head open, memory loss is kind of status quo.”

“Yes, but I think there might be other factors which ultimately contributed to--”

His voice turned to buzzing in her ears. She could not bear to hear it, whatever other stupid thing she might've done that night should be left where it belonged, in the past.

“Please, Bran, I just want to rest and forget this ever happened.”

With a hesitant sweeping study of her face, he relented, just in time for Jon to come in, awkwardly avoiding eye contact with Sansa as he had done all week. He'd come to take Bran to meet the driver waiting to transport him to the airport in order for him to return to school before finals started.

She leaned forward and kissed the top of Bran’s long dark hair. “I appreciate your concern, Bran, but I’ll be okay. Have a safe trip back.”

As his wheelchair retreated with Jon diligently pushing it, Sansa realized she was totally alone for the first time since she’d woken up three days ago. Her mother was busy with Rickon, ensuring he was ready for the trip back to Winterville, and her father had returned to work today.

She hadn’t heard from Joffrey or Margaery in the days following the accident, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to face them ever again. She didn’t even want to go out that night, but after a round of being convinced they could sneak her into the hottest new club in the city she relented. Curling her arms around herself, she stared at her bare feet, trying not to think about the significance of having no friends worried enough to check on her.

It was the soft tone of Jon’s voice that pulled her out of her lonely thoughts.

“Sansa, I- I’ve got something for you, um, outside.” He was so awkward around her. He always had been, most likely due to the fact that she never hid how much she disliked him throughout the years. Her distaste for Jon was a learned behavior from mimicking her mother as a child, and later, an adult.

Without a response, she lightly stood from her bed, sliding the sandals her mother brought the previous day onto her feet and quietly following Jon to the elevator. The quiet hung between them thick and stiff, making the elevator music feel overbearing in the cramped space.

When they stepped into the parking garage, she caught sight of Jon’s familiar beat up Subaru. As he went to open his hatchback, a large fluffy mass of cat was revealed.

“Lady!” Sansa squealed with joy, and for the first time since her accident she felt warm happiness radiate throughout her.

Lady trilled happily to see her companion, her gray ears perking up and tail swishing back and forth with delight.

“She’s been worried sick,” Jon said quietly, “Nearly clawed me to pieces when I went to pick her up. Once I told her where we were going, she settled down a little.”

Sansa blinked back tears as she hid her face in Lady’s warm comforting fur. Being without Lady was the hardest part of being in the hospital, and her heart swelled with each purr she felt under her palms.

“Thank you so much, Jon. I…” She didn’t really know what to say. It struck her as odd -- she didn’t really know how to be kind to Jon Snow. “It means a lot to me. I missed her very much.”

He shrugged with a pink flush in his cheeks, “I wouldn’t want to be away from Ghost a second longer than I had to.”

Sansa saw the familiar white Maine Coon curled up in the passenger seat on an old blanket, seemingly disinterested in the reunion taking place in the backseat.

When Ned and Catelyn had finally agreed to allow each of their children to adopt one of the large Maine Coons native to Ned’s home state, and who also served as the brand of his company, Sansa had just turned 16. Lady was the prettiest of all the kittens in the litter at the local shelter in Eagle Lake, so Sansa picked her. Lady, however, proved to also be very clever and extremely well-behaved on top of how lovely she looked.

Jon, who had chosen last, had little to select from. Ghost, tiny and sickly, had been the only pure white kitten in the litter. He was a quiet cat, who contented himself to sleep at least 18 hours out of the day, most of it spent at Winterfell Coffee House. Sansa had never spent much time with Ghost or Jon, and Lady grew to prefer the company of Summer.

“Your mother will be looking for you soon, but I thought I’d bring Lady home instead of making her fly in a cargo carrier. Ghost could use the company.” It was probably the longest sentence he’d ever spoken directly to her.

Sansa smiled at him then -- her true radiant smile only reserved for rare fleeting moments. Jon nervously pushed his glasses up the brim of his nose and turned away to close the hatchback, but she caught his hand in hers.

“Seriously, Jon, I--”

The thought was cut off by her mother approaching in the rental car set to take them to the airport.

“Sansa, why aren’t you in your room upstairs? I thought we’d have to send out a search party, for heaven’s sake!” Sansa rolled her eyes and watched as Catelyn gave Jon a look that barely disguised her contempt for him, her eagle eyes focusing on where Sansa still loosely held Jon’s hand in her own.

“I’m coming, Mom.” She sighed, dropping his fingers and turning to give Lady one last stroke on the head.

As she turned in the backseat of the unfamiliar car and watched Jon closing the hatchback of his Subaru, she caught the faintest trace of skin from his hip bones peaking out. She turned around quickly, an embarrassed flush creeping over her cheeks. She immediately immersed herself in conversation with Rickon to distract from the feeling of her heart turning over in her chest at the sight of Jon’s skin.


	3. north pt. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Though he arguably was the most removed from her, he still fretted over her unconscious form with the rest of their family, struggling to understand how this could have happened. Sansa, with her bright future and socially savvy ways, who turned her nose up at the idea of going to a smaller college close to home, looked more vulnerable than ever underneath her pink hospital gown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kind words!

> **With each year, our color fades.**  
>  **Slowly, our paint chips away.**  
>  **But we will find the strength, a** **nd the nerve it takes**  
>  **to repaint and repaint and repaint every day.**

* * *

Jon drove back to Maine with Lady and Ghost curled together in the backseat, purring contentedly. Ghost never quite latched onto Lady the way he had with Grey Wind, Nymeria, or even Shaggy Dog, but perhaps that wasn't really strange at all, considering Jon spent the majority of his life out of Sansa's way.

As the interstate turned to winding rural road, he glanced into the rear view mirror and watched as Lady, prim and proper just like Sansa, carefully tucked her tail underneath herself and stretched her neck out so it laid next to Ghost’s in the fading light of sunset shining through the windows.

The few days since Ned’s call felt stretched into an eternity now. At the words, “Sansa’s been in a serious accident, she’s unconscious,” Jon simply handed the shop keys to Theon, grabbed Ghost and hit the open road.

He and Sansa had never been close, and he suspected it was a result of her mother’s distaste for him. Though he arguably was the most removed from her, he still fretted over her unconscious form with the rest of their family, struggling to understand how this could have happened. Sansa, with her bright future and socially savvy ways, who turned her nose up at the idea of going to a smaller college close to home, had looked more vulnerable than ever underneath her pink hospital gown.

Despite Catelyn's disapproval, Arya was never one to care about what her parents thought, and always enjoyed being the closest of the Stark children to Jon. He enjoyed seeing her, even if it was fraught with tension from all sides.

“Do you think she’ll be different when she wakes up?” Arya had asked in a moment of what seemed like genuine concern while she and Jon sat in the hospital cafeteria drinking shitty coffee.

Jon's lips twitched into a sad smile, “I don’t know.”

“Maybe she’ll get away from that creepy asshole,” Arya said, twisting her face as she took a sip from her styrofoam cup.

Privately, Jon agreed with Arya. Sansa needed time away from people like the Lannisters and Margaery Tyrell. During her years in Maine, Sansa hadn't exactly excelled at retaining friends, so when she latched onto Margaery in New York it came as a disquieting move to her mother. Margaery lived off her trust fund and seemed uninterested in college or a career.

“It’s really you I feel sorry for,” Arya continued, causing Jon to look up at her in confusion, abruptly pulled from his thoughts about the Lannisters and Tyrells. “Because you’ve got to spend the summer with her royal highness.”

Ned had already told him the plan for Sansa’s summer at Winterville. Jon didn’t particularly care, he assumed she would spend her summer sulking on a coffee stool and reading or painting her nails.

“I’m not too worried about it,” he shrugged. “I doubt Sansa will have any interest in spending more time around me than she’ll have to.”

Before Arya could reply, her cell phone began to vibrate on the table, with Robb and Grey Wind's faces lighting up the screen. After a few seconds of one-word replies, she sighed and hung up, facing Jon once more.

"She's awake."

.:.

The last minute decision to go and pick Lady up wasn’t one he bothered thinking through. He was honest when he said he disliked the idea of her flying home alone while Catelyn and Sansa and Rickon sat in first class seats.

Jon knew he could’ve flown down and back home with them, Ned would’ve paid for it, but he preferred to do things under his own steam. He’d never truly known the wonderful caress of freedom until he gained his driver’s license, and now he would rather drive for three days than spend any time on a plane.

His knuckles gripped the steering wheel tighter as he thought about Sansa -- she never really drove much in Maine, and she had no car in New York. It seemed wildly out of character for Sansa Stark to drive drunk, let alone steal her boyfriend’s $300,000 car to do so.

Sure Sansa was pampered and spoiled, but ever since she had been a child, she always exhibited a strong sense of knowing what was expected of her as a Stark.

As he turned into the familiar drive following the twelve-hour trip home, Jon noticed a light in the kitchen still on. Ghost and Lady, awake for their prime hunting hours, sat up with rigid spines as he climbed out of the driver’s seat to let them out to roam the grounds around the family home.

Grabbing his duffle bag filled with nothing but a dirty t-shirt and a couple of pairs of underwear, he made his way back into the Stark home. Even now, nearly two decades later, he still didn’t think of it as his home. Jon had finally just gotten accustomed to having no home at all.

Stepping into the kitchen, his eyes landed on Sansa’s thin frame, bent over the kitchen table, sleeping softly.

The red of her hair spread out across the table like wildfire in the dim light of the stove, and the paleness of her skin shone up almost translucent in the little moonlight filtering through the kitchen windows. His eyes traced the curve of her chin, resting delicately on her forearm. She was beautiful, something that she’d used to her advantage since she was old enough to know beauty could be powerful. He remembered years of Sansa perfecting her make-up as though she was learning the art of fencing like Arya or the intricacies of complex physics equations like Bran. The scratches on her cheek had faded from their original angry red to a dull pink, but the cut along her hairline sat atop a deep purple bruise, stretching from her temple to the middle of her forehead.

His step toward the table caused her to stir and blink up at him, and his heart turned over in his chest as a small sleepy smile spread across her lips.

“I wanted to stay up to make sure you made it home,” she muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

“You didn’t need to do that,” he said, shuffling his feet awkwardly. Then for something to say more than anything else he added, “Ghost and Lady are out hunting.”

She nodded at him, propping her face on her palm. “Thanks again. For bringing Lady, for everything really.”

The air around them suddenly seemed to be filled with things unspoken -- years worth of things Jon realized he wanted to say to Sansa.

“Hey, look, I know that this summer probably seems like it won’t be much fun,” he began, but she held up a hand.

“Jon, please, don’t be a martyr. I know how much you enjoy it, but it’s not necessary,” she smirked. “There are plenty of worse places to be than here with everyone. I mean, at least my family is here. Sometimes New York City felt like the loneliest place in the world.”

The silence hung between them once again, and Jon noticed as a brief expression darkened Sansa’s pale face, before she pulled herself back together once more, sensing perhaps she had said too much.

“Sansa, listen--”

Jon wanted to say it would be okay, that the things that had happened in New York weren’t her fault, but he didn’t believe in speaking unless what he could be certain in the truth of his words.

“Look, we better head to bed. It’ll be an early morning for us both,” Sansa cut him off, standing quickly and averting her eyes from Jon.

Before he can even say goodnight, she turned the corner toward the stairway leading to her bedroom. He watched her retreat in the dull light, hair fanning out behind her, bare feet barely making a sound on the hardwood floors.

Suddenly Jon wondered if maybe Arya had been right.

The Sansa who woke up in the hospital three days ago wasn’t the same girl who had left for New York City without saying so much as a goodbye to him.

As he began to make his way toward his own bedroom upstairs, he realized could still smell her soft vanilla perfume in the air. He heard the creak of her bed across the hall from his own once he reached the landing and felt the familiar tug of loneliness pull on his heart.

He had misjudged Sansa and her pretty smiles and fake happiness, thinking those things were what she wanted, but her facade cracked tonight in the dark kitchen. For the first time, Jon felt like maybe he knew Sansa better than anyone else in her family.

As he settled into fitful sleep that night, his dreams were filled with red hair and vanilla perfume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll meet Theon and finally get to the Coffee Shop part of this Coffee Shop AU.


	4. east.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Can you ever forgive me?”
> 
> His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel and he kept his eyes forward as he addressed her. 
> 
> “There is nothing to forgive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are at chapter 4! Thank you all for your kind comments and kudos!

> **Now I bear little resemblance to the king I once was.**  
>  **I bear little resemblance to the king I could become.**  
>  **Maybe paper is paper, maybe kids will be kids-**  
>  **Lord, I want to remember how to feel like I did.**

* * *

 

Sansa curled up in bed, wishing Lady wasn’t out hunting and could keep her company. The moment in the kitchen with Jon had been strange. In fact, everything in her life had been strange since she woke up in the hospital.

Life seemed to be upside down these days. Jon -- the boy she had never accepted as family -- was the one who remembered Lady, who wanted her to feel comfortable this summer at home. Though her parents were worried and wanted to protect her, they didn't know how to comfort her. Somehow it was Jon Snow who rode in like the knights she always fantasized about as a small child.

Out of the corner of her eye she spied her cell phone, turned upside down on her nightstand.  On the plane ride home she had turned her phone off. She didn’t bother telling her mother about the messages from Joffrey or Margaery. 

_ “You can’t hide up in Maine forever, bitch, _ ” Joffrey had sent that morning, causing her insides to cave in on themselves.

He had never been particularly nice to her, not in sincerity at least. As a little girl Sansa had believed in things like princes and happily ever afters -- she decided it was a direct byproduct of having parents like hers. They were always happy. The only fights she ever observed between them always centered around Jon Snow. It was logical to her child’s mind to blame the moping skinny boy for bringing strife into her precious home.

Now Sansa listened for Jon’s boots on the staircase, the sound of his sigh as he opened the door to his room audible in the still silence. Before he had inherited Robb’s room, Jon spent most of his childhood downstairs in what now was the guest bedroom. It was just another way he had been removed from the Stark children throughout his life.

When Lyanna, Jon’s mother, had died from cancer, her father brought Jon home. Sansa was only a toddler, with her mother’s belly swollen from carrying Arya. When she was old enough to ask her mother if Jon was her brother she’d been greeted with a cold, “Certainly not.”

Robb always had a pseudo-rivalry with Jon, but it had waned in recent years with the realization that Jon never carried any interest in becoming a politician, lawyer, or CEO. The last few years whenever Robb came home, he and Jon would spend time together playing video games or heading out to concerts down in Portland. Sansa, who had never felt close with any of her family, envied Jon Snow and his ability to charm each of her siblings in turn. Arya hardly needed persuading -- Jon was just like her: moody, with his dark hair and sad eyes. Before Bran went out west, Jon was the one who took him out to the lakes to fish off the piers and camp for a few nights. Jon always seemed to want Bran to feel like a normal kid, taking him to the movies for all the new science fiction films that Sansa felt were too weird to be caught watching, even if she had an interest in them. 

Rickon was wholly different. When her mother became pregnant with Rickon, most of the other Stark kids were practically grown. Bran, being the closest in age, was still a full eight years older than his brother.

Jon helped perhaps the most with Rickon. Robb had been in college in New York, studying philosophy and business, the pride of House Stark. Sansa and Arya were too young to really be much aid, but Jon had a soft spot for the bubbly baby Catelyn had brought home from the hospital. 

She thought of Rickon sleeping down the hall in his superhero themed bedroom and wished more than anything she could be 7 years old again, with an entire universe stretched out before her.

Turning over in her bed, she tucked her phone in her nightstand drawer, uninterested in ever turning it back on and seeing those messages from the people she thought had been her closest friends.

She hadn’t lied to Jon downstairs -- for all her dreams of life in New York, all it had given her was a terrible and creeping loneliness. Even here, though the familiar ache hollowed her stomach, she felt safer and more loved. 

She fell asleep quickly into unsettling dreams filled with hands groping at her exposed wrists and ankles to drag her down, down, down.

Before she could really claim to have slept at all, the alarm in her bedroom went off at 4 o'clock, causing her to jerk awake. In the distance, she heard Jon’s alarm mimic her own, ringing with an urgency that felt indecent at this early hour. 

Opening her bedroom door, she found Lady, ready to come in for a morning nap.

“Sorry, love.” Sansa said quietly, “You can nap at the shop.” 

She lifted her cat onto the edge of her bed and turned back toward her bathroom to start her morning routine. The record player her parents had given her last Christmas filled her bedroom with sound and she sat at her vanity, humming along. Her fingers gingerly traced the bruised cut down the side of her face. Though healing rapidly, it would prove almost impossible to cover. 

The knock on her bedroom door at 4:30 woke Lady, who sat up and curiously tilted her head toward the hallway.

“Come in,” Sansa called softly, applying the last layer of lipgloss to her mouth.

Jon, looking tired and messy, came into her bedroom with Ghost following behind him. Jon’s wild hair was pulled back into a small bun, with his round glasses sitting on his nose. The purple bags under his eyes let her know he'd gotten about as much sleep as she had.

“Sorry, I just wanted to check in and see if you were ready. I usually eat breakfast at the shop,” He said gently, and she fought back a chuckle at the formality in his tone.

His hand still clutched her doorknob, unsure whether to stay or to go, and she tried to smile at him in a reassuring way.

“That’s fine. I’m not much of a breakfast eater.” As she stood, Lady joined her, sniffing Ghost’s ears and gazing up to Sansa and Jon.

The four of them made their way quietly to the garage, and Sansa was hit with realization that she had never ridden with Jon before. Upon climbing into his Subaru she observed just how much it smelled like him -- vaguely of coffee beans and fabric softener. When compared to the expensive cologne Joffrey once wore, it was comforting.

Lady and Ghost settled in the backseat, both ready to sleep for the entirety of the hour-long drive to Eagle Lake. 

“I hope Theon managed to not burn the place down while I was gone,” Jon said, reaching out to twist the radio dial. 

Sansa smirked, “You know Theon sat back and let Gilly and Osha do everything.” 

It was nice -- talking to Jon without a stilted awkwardness permeating the air around them. She found herself laughing easily with him as they imagined Theon being ordered around by Gilly and Osha.

Jon rarely smiled in the way he was right now, with the crow’s feet around his eyes crinkling in happiness and illuminated by the light from the radio.

“I’m sure they’re all dreading me coming to work there. I was horrible to you all.” She said, looking down to her hands nervously. She’d tried to hide the anxiety she felt about coming to work with those friends of Jon’s who she had always treated with contempt, as if they were less than she was.

Jon looked over with a puzzled expression, “You weren’t horrible--”

“Oh, please, Jon. You don’t have to spare my feelings. I was perfectly atrocious to you all as a teenager.” She said, giving him a small sad smile. “Can you ever forgive me?”

His knuckles flexed on the steering wheel and he kept his eyes forward as he addressed her. “There is nothing to forgive.”

Sansa sighed in a resigned way, then she laid her hand on his shoulder, “Please, Jon.”

Jon gave an abrupt bitter laugh, no real humor behind it, and nodded. “Fine, I forgive you, Sansa.”

He might not understand it, but she needed to know that the mistakes she made before wouldn’t define her for the rest of her life. Not here, not now, not anymore -- starting with Jon in his old Subaru that smelled like coffee beans, fabric softener, and pine trees, Sansa would begin her journey toward becoming a better person. 

They sat in silence for the rest of the drive through the winding roads to Eagle Lake, and Sansa watched the sky struggle to lighten as the moon passed behind mountains and trees. 

She hadn’t been to the original Winterfell Coffee House in years and years -- not that she really enjoyed coffee all that much. The front of the shop is exactly as she remembered it: blue and timber, with the black and grey Maine Coon staring down from the marquee. 

“Here we are,” Jon said, unlocking the door and flipping on the lights. “Seems like everything is still standing.”

Sansa followed him into the shop, taking in the decor and quiet of the early morning. Jon slipped behind the bar with ease, his plain white t-shirt sticking to his arms as he lifted down the usual morning supplies.

“What can I help with?” Sansa asked, watching him pull clean dishes off the drying racks to place them where they belonged.

Jon looked around at her, his mouth relaxed into an 'o' shape of surprise and Sansa realized that he assumed she wouldn’t want to help with anything. Her temper flared quickly, but instead of saying anything, he simply handed her a dishrag to finish helping him in putting the dishes away. 

Jon flipped on the overhead radio, tuned to a calm indie station that reminded her of Robb and his days filled with dragging home an acoustic guitar with him on college breaks, when he had been irritatingly good for a novice.

Theon stumbled in around 6, looking as though the last time he and sleep had been intimately acquainted was some time ago.

“Can someone explain to me why the fuck we have red traffic lights at 6 in the morning?” He dramatically exclaimed without bothering with a more proper greeting. He pulled on his familiar apron and finally realized it wasn’t just Jon standing in the middle of the room with the usual bemused look fixed on his lips for whatever Theon's soapbox happened to be this morning.

It was a sticky moment -- the last time Sansa had seen Theon she’d made a point of telling him the embroidered throw pillows he was interested in selling looked more like unwanted pincushions rather than anything someone would buy on Etsy.

“Thank fuck you two are back, I was absolutely dreading another day of actually working.” Sansa, who felt like she had received whiplash from the change in topic, stared as Theon made his way toward the back to start counting inventory.

When she looked at Jon, he merely shrugged and went to flip the CLOSED sign to OPEN. 

Ghost, for the most part, didn’t seem to mind sharing his window space with Lady -- neither had slept the night before and were now happily curled up in the glow of the early peeks of sunshine. Sansa listened to Theon whistle off key to the song playing overhead as Jon counted the receipts from when he’d been gone. 

She felt wholly useless here. Her life had been one of AP classes and then honors college classes in things like French art history and literature from the Romantic period, not anything practical. She never bothered to take a business or management class, and most of the work she'd been forced into doing in her life was for chore money. She was out of her depth in this cramped coffee shop, waiting for instructions from people she used to dislike and disregard as unimportant.

Sam Tarly was the first customer in that morning. His round face showing the exhaustion from his night shift lit up at the sight of Jon back behind the counter. He caught sight of Sansa standing behind near register and moved over to speak to her.

“I heard about your accident,” Of course he had, it wasn’t a big town and Theon had probably told every customer he served during the past week. She was surprised TMZ wasn't waiting outside the shop for her. “I’m really glad to see you’re okay. Well, not  _ okay _ , but--”

She smiled at his stumbling words, “Thank you, Sam.”

Jon, busy getting Sam his regular, smiled to himself as he poured espresso shots into the paper cup. 

“If you need anyone to help with dressing anything... Well, I know a decent doctor,” Sam recovered, and Sansa knew he meant it. Her heart broke again for all the kindness she had been shown and how very little she had ever returned. 

Theon reappeared from the back, a pen stuck behind his ear and smirk on his face.

“Sam, my dear friend! Tell them what a fantastic job yours truly did at taking care of all our regulars while they were off enjoying a relaxing trip--” Jon began to protest, but a snort from Sansa caused his words to die in his throat.

Glancing over to Jon, Sam put a serene expression on his face, sipping from his cup lackadaisically and nodding at Theon.

“Ah yes, shall I tell them about the first day, when you burned all the coffee beans? Or when Gilly and Osha had to clean smoothie juice off the ceiling because you--”

“Traitorous bastard!” Theon said loudly above Sam still listing the barista's various failures during the last week, hand over his chest in mock-scandalization. “See if I ever give you a ten percent discount again!”

Jon, whose laughter had filled the shop at Sam’s words, looked over to his coworker with a resigned sigh, “Will we have any customers left this week? I’d hate for Sansa to get the not-wholly-wrong impression that all are all dregs on society.”

“First of all, high five for that pun, my friend,” Theon said, holding his hand up, patiently waiting for Jon to return it with his own. “Second, I never claimed to be anything more than a drain on the capitalist regime that has this country by the balls.”

Sansa, who had not laughed this much in months, covered her mouth as Theon went into a long and half-sincere rant against the American government which included not only one, but two, Kennedy-related conspiracy theories. By the time he had finished, there was a queue forming, and Jon was rolling his eyes and smiling as he pulled milk from refrigerators and coffee beans from cabinets. 

Staying out of the way during the morning rush made her feel guilty, but she knew she would be more of a hinderance than a help if she tried to jump in right now. Instead she watched as Jon’s bun slipped down his neck and sweat beaded his brow while he concentrated on constructing each drink with care. 

Jon had always been quiet, but in that moment she found herself wondering if perhaps he was only unnaturally quiet around her and her mother. Everyone else liked Jon, which wasn’t something that happened without interacting with him. She ached in that moment, sadness at the thought of missing out on a friend like Jon.

“Hey, Sansa, want to stop staring at Jon and learn the register?” Theon said, leaning over her shoulder and causing her to jump. “Not that I blame you, I told him girls love that stupid ass mopey Indie rocker look he’s got going on.”

Sansa turned pink but held her ground looking to Theon’s messy hair and ink stained hands, “It helps that he showers more than once a week as well.”

At first she thought maybe she went too far, but Theon’s face split into a grin as he made his way back to the register, “There’s our Sansa! Now seriously, get your pretty ass over here.”


	5. south, pt. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your kind words and kudos! Beginning with Chapter 6, some big plot variables will come into play, and (hopefully) some questions will be answered.

> **Some truths are gentle, forgiving and kind.**  
>  **Some truths are hard to define.**  
>  **Some truths are crooked, with rough edges too,**  
>  **but some truths wear like comfortable shoes.**

* * *

 Jon watched over the next two weeks as Sansa began to fit more comfortably with Gilly, Osha, and even Theon. He enjoyed his morning and evening commutes more than he might have once thought possible now that Sansa was riding with him, bickering over his music taste and laughing about the latest rant of Theon’s. The most recent one about how the government had faked the moon landing had been especially excellent, complete with visual aids of where the filming had taken place in Tennessee and eyewitness accounts from women in stained white tshirts holding cigarettes between their teeth

Summer had officially kicked off, with tourists from all over the country pouring into their tiny corner coffee house on their way to hiking or kayaking trips. Jon enjoyed making new and different drinks for a change to the steady flow of regulars in the winter months. Sam sat at a nearby table, talking to Gilly about whatever the latest fantasy novel she had him reading was. Jon wondered if Sam would ever get up the nerve to tell Gilly how he felt, or if Gilly might already suspect. Sansa and he had a betting pool on it -- she said before the Summer season ended, but Jon, who knew Sam much better and much longer, had been generous with his "before Christmas" bet.

As he slipped out back for a quick break during the usual Monday morning rush, his phone lit up with Ned’s number.  
  
“Hey Ned,” Jon said easily, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“Jon, sorry to bother you at work,” Ned began, the muffled sound of foot traffic in the background. “I’ve been trying to call Sansa for a week now, but she isn’t answering.”

Jon had noticed that Sansa never seemed to have her cell phone with her. He hadn’t mentioned it -- he assumed she lost it in the accident.

“Do you want me to go grab her for you? Gilly can manage the register.” Jon offered, trying to do what little he could to help.

“No, it’s fine. I wanted to ask you how things are going. How’s Sansa taking it?” Ned asked quietly, and Jon realized why he was the one called.

Not Catelyn, but Jon. Ned assumed Sansa would hide her discomfort from her mother, but not as easily from Jon, whom she had recently spent most her time with -- a fact her mother was sure to have noticed and reported back to Ned.

“Actually, things are going really well,” Jon said truthfully. “Sansa has been a huge help to Osha with the bakery stuff.”

Sansa had taken to baking like Jon took to coffee roasting, which came as a surprise considering she never seemed interested in cooking before. Under Osha’s careful tutelage, she learned how to make the basics of what the shop offered quickly, then moved on to experimenting with her own goods.

“Honestly the Tarths may come up from High Landing and steal her away before they lose all their clients.” Jon said with a small chuckle.

“She hasn’t been…” Ned trailed off, but Jon knew what was unsaid. Ungrateful, rude, cold.

“No. The customers seem to really like her. I caught her reading a book on business a couple of days ago,” Jon said, interested to see what Ned had to say about it.

Ned laughed, “Are you sure this is Sansa we’re talking about? I might even believe Arya before Sansa.” There was a brief pause before he spoke again. “Thank you for doing this for me, Jon. I know Sansa can take after her mother--”

“Ned. I was happy to do it. I owe you and Catelyn a lot for all you’ve done for me.” Jon said. He always found it awkward to be thanked by Ned for doing anything.

There was a muffled voice and the sound of a chair scraping the floor before Ned said, “I’ve got to head into a meeting now, but thanks again, son. Let me know if anything comes up.”

Jon muttered a hurried goodbye and placed his phone back into his pocket. On his way back to the bar, he passed Sansa standing over the register, straightening receipts and the tip money. He couldn’t explain the sudden overwhelming urge to touch her, but he hardly felt in control as his hand stretched out and brushed a spot of flour from her shoulder.

Sansa’s blue eyes flicked up in surprise, her long red braid of hair whipping around as she turned to face him.

“Sorry,” He muttered and spun quickly back toward the bar, embarrassed and thankful Theon had called in sick that morning (most likely from a glaring hangover). Gilly and Osha at least would have the tact not to say anything, but he didn’t miss the little smiles that passed between them as he went to take the next customer’s order.

Sansa stared after him as he made his way to the sink to begin washing dishes, her hands frozen on their way to the shoulder Jon had just touched, as though she wasn't sure what had just happened.

“Sansa, do you think you could make some more of your lemon cakes? They’ve flown off the racks this morning.” Osha took mercy on them, giving an opportunity for a graceful resolution to the awkward tension lingering in the shop around them.

Jon watched carefully, without appearing to do so, as Sansa blushed and nodded, looking as if she still wasn’t entirely comfortable with bearing her happiness for other people to see in such an open manner.

The car ride home that afternoon was a subdued affair -- it had been a hectic day of tourists and regulars alike. Jon felt a familiar tiredness seep into his bones as he climbed into his Subaru and he could see from Sansa’s drooping eyes, she was wistfully thinking about laying her bed as well.

“Your dad called this morning,” Jon said, trying to seem nonchalant. He’d debated with himself all day about whether or not he wanted to tell her -- the old Sansa would fly off the handle at those words.

He underestimated the new Sansa, however, who looked at him evenly and replied, “Checking in on me? Wondering if I am being a sullen toddler about the whole thing?”

Jon laughed. One of the best things he’d come to learn about Sansa was her sense of humor -- biting and witty, she could match Theon blow for blow, which counted for quite a lot at Winterfell Coffee House.

“Not quite phrased like that, but yes, in general.” His laughter died down in his throat a little. “He said he’s been trying to call you for a week.”

This statement did cause a reaction to flit across her face, one of a frightened and cornered animal. She schooled her expression quickly and settled her gaze on her peeling pink fingernails.

“I haven’t really felt like carrying my phone lately,” she said quietly. Jon didn’t say anything, but remained patiently silent in case there was more she wanted to say. “Joff and Marge… They’re pretty upset with me.”

Jon felt a white hot anger lick at his stomach. Joffrey Lannister could afford to replace his car twelve times over, _without_ his parent’s money. He and Margaery had marked a change in Sansa from spoiled little girl from rural Maine to big city nightmare. Sure, for the cameras she was composed, but rumors plagued Sansa -- from cheating allegations to questions about just how she did so well in her classes given she never seemed to be on campus or studying.

Privately, Jon looked over to where his quasi-sister sat framed by the sun between the dense lush trees that he had loved to lose himself in since he was a boy in a strange place surrounded by strange people.

“Sansa, Joffrey and Margaery can go fuck themselves,” he said, his temper flaring in a rare outburst.

He couldn’t be entirely sure what led him to say it, but it probably had something to do with the expression Sansa wore as if she blamed herself for their cruelty and carelessness. Sansa might not have been the nicest person, but no one deserved the likes of Joffrey Lannister. Now that Jon could see Sansa for what she was -- lonely, brilliant, hilarious, stoic, proud, a _Stark_ in every sense of the word -- he made the silent vow to not allow anyone to talk down to her, even if was herself.

“Seriously, you’re so much better off without those assholes,” Jon said, still staring hard at the road and trying not to focus on the pink of her mouth in its small ‘o’ shape of surprise.

“I thought they were my friends,” she said in a small and cracked voice, and Jon felt his heart break all over again. “They… They made me feel wanted and included, like they understood.”

There were so many things left unsaid in that sentence, but Jon heard them all. Sansa, who matched none of her siblings with their darker hair and brown eyes. She was the sun where they were winter. She loved the frivolities in life, surrounded by the serious-natured siblings she never seemed to fit in with. Where Jon was on the outside looking in always because of his blood, Sansa was on the inside gazing out because of hers.

“I didn’t realize how… How you could have friends without strings attached,” she said, her voice trembling slightly. “Like Gilly and Osha, or you and Sam and Theon.”

Jon did look at her then, briefly, to see the tears that would not spill because he knew she wouldn’t allow them to, not in front of another person. He felt his heart tug in his chest and once again the overwhelming need to touch her took him. In stretching his right hand out to gently lay upon her interlaced fingers, he wanted to convey that he did understand. More than anyone else, possibly, ever could.

“They’re your friends now too, Sansa.” He said with a small smile. “Osha and Gilly and Sam and Theon and… Me.”

He pulled into their drive and turned toward her, where she was gazing at him as if perhaps she had never seen Jon Snow before this moment, with his curly hair hanging loose around his shoulders and his crooked smile focused exclusively on her.

“I’d like that.” She breathed after a moment. “I’d like for us to be friends.”

Jon squeezed her hands under his own, “I’d like that very much myself.”

As she went into the kitchen to help Catelyn finish preparing the dinner ingredients for that night, he exchanged glances with her and he knew that the small, broken girl Sansa had been since her accident might finally be able to forgive herself and begin to heal.

In the quiet of the night after supper, he heard her soft singing drift throughout the landing as she readied for bed. He felt that uncomfortable stirring low in his stomach, the sensation that his heart might turn over in his chest and he closed his eyes tightly.

She was a sister -- never in blood or in title or even in her own words -- but he could not betray the home Ned had given him with these insane thoughts about _Sansa_ of all people. She would never reciprocate even just the slightest notion of his feelings, whether or not she had just survived an extremely traumatic experience.

He would put those thoughts in the back of his mind, where they could not tempt him to brush her cheek or touch her soft red braids or kiss her healing forehead. Instead, he would focus on being just what she admitted she wanted in his messy car earlier -- a friend, with no strings attached.

Perhaps, he thought, for him that could be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: an interlude featuring Ned, Robb, Catelyn, Robert, Cersei, Tywin and Tyrion. (Perhaps even the fleeting glimpse of Jaime!) Also: the idea of the Brienne being connected to a bakery comes from the amazing "I'll be the frosting to your cupcake, wench" by janie_tangerine.


	6. interlude.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ned Stark was having a bad week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The kudos and comments I've gotten on this story have been so wonderfully kind, I thank each and everyone of you for taking the time out to not only read this story but also provide feedback. I hope this chapter starts to answer questions I know several readers have had!

Ned Stark was having a bad week.

The roll out of Winterfell Enterprises into the new territories was proving quite a bit more precarious than he originally believed. Not only would he have to contend with Robert and Tywin uniting under one banner, there was also the relentless PR nightmare for his family since Sansa’s accident.

Jon’s words reassured him that his eldest daughter had at least escaped the incident without too much regressive damage, but she couldn’t stay in Maine forever. The time for Sansa to pull herself out of hiding and deal with the paparazzi’s invasive cameras and questions was coming.

In the meantime, he found himself thankful for Jon. Despite what Cat might say, the friendship between his ward and his daughter seemed to be doing miracles for both of them. His wife’s calls regarding the long hours they spent at the shop masked a much deeper rooted insecurity she harbored, and Ned tried to navigate the waters of her relationship with Jon very carefully.

_“Cat, you have to stop blaming Jon for existing,_ ” He said wearily running a hand through his graying hair.

_“You ran off on a business trip twenty years ago and returned with a toddler, who you claimed was the son of your childhood best friend, a woman I never met.”_ Cat replied, her voice holding none of the West Coast warmth she was known for. _“His father has never been named, by you or Lyanna. What am I supposed to think, Ned?”_

It was an old argument, one Ned long ago realized he wouldn’t able to win. Catelyn married him after a whirl-wind romance -- the five months spent with her in Washington were like a dream. Her parents would never have allowed her to marry a penniless upstart entrepreneur, so they wed in secret. He loved Cat as much now as he did then, but something had been irrevocably changed between them when he answered the call from Lyanna all those years ago.

_“I’ve told you a thousand times, Cat -- Jon’s father was married and had two children and he wasn’t interested in leaving them for Lyanna. She had no family left, so she asked me to take him._ ” Ned sighed, eying the bottle of scotch teasing him from across the room.

A simple paternity test would clear it up, but Cat never demanded one for the reason Ned would never take it -- Honor. He swore to take Jon on and raise him alongside his own children, blood relation or not. Cat wouldn’t want it getting out that he did have a bastard son if it were true, so she was happier guessing than having it confirmed or denied, with no paper trail or people to pay off for silence.

_“I thought we wanted Sansa to go back to school in the Fall... Re-enter society. Surely we should be preparing her for that?”_ Cat changed subjects at the speed of light, as she always did when an argument about Jon reached a stalemate.

_“We can’t protect her forever, but Sansa is going to need time,”_ Ned said, knowing his wife already understood this. _“Working in the shop and interacting with people everyday is a good start for that.”_

_“But we wanted more for her than working in a coffee shop, where she can’t grow past a certain point._ ” Catelyn’s words were like a slap to his face -- a direct attack on Jon, whom she always felt uneasy with taking after Ned the most rather than one of his legitimized children.

_“I want Sansa to be happy, Cat.”_ Ned said, swallowing his anger and retaining his calm tone. _“She seems to be doing much better in Maine even just after a month.”_

The conversation slipped into safer territory after his statement rendered Sansa’s return to New York a moot point. Arya was enjoying her fencing training with his brother in Portland, and Bran was working on developing new harnesses for rock climbers to ensure further safety in the instance of a fall. Rickon insisted on playing his video games unless dragged into the outdoors.

As Cat’s news about his family poured over him, Ned felt his spine relax from its defensive posture. He was proud of each of his children, always. He was thankful for Robb’s negotiating skills, Arya’s strong will, Bran’s determination and ambition, Rickon’s humilty, Jon’s work ethic, and Sansa’s ability to adapt to survive. He missed them more than ever in his lonely city condo.

After the call ended, he held his phone in his palm for a few seconds, watching the screen light dim and cut off. He wanted Cat to understand his hesitance in allowing Sansa to return to the place that had very nearly destroyed her.

When he’d been called by the hospital because one of his children had been involved in an accident, he arrived long before anyone else in the family did. The doctors rushed around and ran their tests, pulling blood and urine and all manner of other samples from Sansa, who lay pale and bloodied on her bed.

Acting as her medical power of attorney, he had been privileged to the results of her tests.

He stood, grabbing the scotch from the shelf, and as he poured the amber liquid into a glass, he tried to tell himself the secrets he kept were for the betterment of his family.

_Family. Duty. Honor._ Those were the things Cat’s parents had asked of him, in that order, when they became aware of the clandestine marriage. Every decision he made since was based upon those three ideals, so he would always feel worthy of the love she showed him everyday.

If she knew he’d kept this from her, she might never forgive him. Draining his glass and turning toward his welcoming bed, Ned resolved the next time he was home, he would tell her.

 

.:.

 

“Ned! Robb! Glad to see you could make it,” Robert Baratheon’s booming voice carried to where the two Stark men were making their way into the large conference room.

When Robert called to set up this meeting, Ned had asked Robb to tag along out of a nagging suspicion that this gathering was about more than catching up and discussing business in a vague sense.

As his eyes come to find Tywin Lannister, along with Cersei, Robert’s wife and head of his board, and Tywin’s son, Tyrion, financial overseer for Lannister, Incorporated, he felt his suspicions had been confirmed. Jaime’s seat next to his brother was empty, not unusual considering the hours the eldest Lannister kept.

“And you, old friend!” Ned said, fixing a smile on his face as he moved to shake each person’s hand, Robb following suit. “I hope all is well with your family.”

Hollow words for a hollow meeting, but Robert laughed and nodded, “Indeed! And the same to you. I see Robb is still taking the corporate law world by storm.”

Robb flashed his megawatt smile to his namesake, “I appreciate the kind words, Robert, though I’m not sure if I’m worthy of them. Surely if it were true I’d have more sleep to show for it.”

A chuckle from Robert was the only sound in the otherwise icy room. Cersei’s presence unnerved Ned in a way he disliked to admit, as he knew her high profile marriage to Robert had always been a loveless and power based one.

Tywin sat in his usual rigidity -- what one would expect of a former military man turned business tycoon. On his right sat the only real member of his family who seemed to show any interest or talent for business, even if his father was loathe to admit it. Tyrion was the only Lannister Ned had ever enjoyed doing any business with, and now he sat looking incredibly bored by the entire thing.

“So,” Ned began slowly. “To what honor do we owe the pleasure?”

It was not, however, Robert who answered. Instead, Cersei turned her gaze to him.

“As you are aware, Baratheon Corporation and Lannister, Incorporated are currently undergoing a very public merger,” her words were punctuated with no warmth or kindness. “The expansion of Winterfell Enterprises comes at a very precarious time. Your business is not prepared to stand up to us in New York or California.”

Her bluntness was the only refreshing thing about her, Ned thought to himself. Unwilling to be intimidated by Cersei Baratheon or Tywin Lannister, he sat with a placid explanation, as Robb shifted next to him.

“Are you asking us to slow our expansion?” Robb asked, his politeness tinged with incredulity.

Ned watched each face carefully, as Cersei remained stoic and proud, Tyrion continued to stare up at the ceiling to count tiles, and Tywin watched on, one eyebrow cocked. Robert’s ruddy face was the only one which held any emotion for the two men seated opposite him.

“We want you to stop your expansion,” Cersei said crisply. “For your benefit and ours.”

Robb looked to his father, and his anger was beginning to show through the happy facade he currently wore. Ned knew Cersei’s reputation for baiting before going in for the kill -- a master manipulator -- and he wasn’t going to allow her that satisfaction today.

“You understand that isn’t an option for us,” Ned said with an easy smile. “We have invested too much capital in this project--”

Robert cut him off by leaning forward and addressing him directly, “Ned, old man, we want to offer you a deal. Join us at Baratheon and Lannister -- Just think, we could control most of the commercial properties on the East Coast.”

Ned sat back, briefly at a loss for words. Deals with the Lannisters came with strings attached, he knew that very well. This was not the straightforward offering Robert seemed to think he could present it as.

“I’m not sure I understand where this is coming from,” Ned said carefully. “I haven’t listed Winterfell Enterprises for sell.”

Robert’s smile turned strained at his old friend’s words, “We are offering you a deal, Ned. Either you can join your property holdings with us and maintain a stake in the larger markets, maybe even with international opportunities, or you can continue trying to expand, which will bankrupt you.”

Robb’s knuckles were white on his pen next to his father.

“Is that a threat?” He asked, his calm voice becoming almost mechanical.

Tywin looked to Ned’s son with a cool disdain, “It is a fact, Mr. Stark. You do not have the capital to continue this ridiculous campaign. We have the resources you need.”

They were threatened by him, Ned realized as Tywin spoke. They had successfully kept competitors at bay for years as they built their dynasties by using scare tactics just like this. Now the Starks threatened that stability and their ability to be so far above the rest of their peers that there was no need to worry.

“I’m sorry to disappoint you,” Ned said plainly. “But I’m not interested in your proposal at this time.”

Cersei’s gaze bore down on him, and she cocked an eyebrow, a smirk replacing her usual scowl.

“You’ve taken a bit of a beating in the press lately,” she said, her words polite and dripping with venom. “It would be a shame for the media to learn that on top of being a failure as a businessman, you’re also a negligent father.”

Robb furiously fixed his own line of sight on Cersei, “And what proof do you have of these claims?”

Ned laid a hand on his son’s arms, and turned back to his friend. Robert looked shifty as Ned fixed him with a hard stare.

“I would not have believed you capable of this, old friend,” he said quietly.

Robert lifted his eyes and gave Ned a small, regretful smile. “This isn’t personal, Ned. It’s just business.”

Ned looked down the row at each of them in turn. _Family. Duty. Honor._ He would not bow to these people just because they demanded it. Blackmail or not, Ned was not going to be bullied by any of the people sitting across from him.

“When you attack my family, it becomes personal, Robert,” Ned said, ice creeping into his tone. “No amount of blackmail will result in Winterfell Enterprise falling under your banner.”

He stood then, Robb quickly following. As they retreated into the atrium of the building, Robb asked, “What are we going to do, Dad?”

Ned turned to his oldest son, placing his hands on Robb’s shoulders and facing him evenly in the mid-morning sunlight streaming through the glass windows.

“What we Starks do best: Endure." Ned began walking toward the large glass doors, pulling his cell phone from his pocket. "But first, I need to speak with your mother.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time we'll get back to Jon and Sansa and the coffee shop crew!


	7. west.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “What’s wrong with you tonight? Honestly, Jon, you can tell me.” She said softly, examining his face, which gave way to the signs of a battle raging inside of him.
> 
> He laughed, a bitter and humorless sound, “Sansa… If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me.”
> 
> Feeling braver than she probably should, she took a step toward him, and whispered, “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you may have noticed, I changed this from 10 to 12 chapters. This is partly due to the fact that Chapters 7 & 8 were originally meant to be one chapter, but once I was writing it, I realized they needed to be separated. The longer chapter count will also help me not feel so rushed to end things.
> 
> I know some folks have been wondering about Jaime/Brienne. I am currently writing a tie-in to this story with them. I may post it before I finish this, I'm not quite sure. 
> 
> I want to give a huge thank you to all the folks giving me kudos and comments. The dialogue I've had with many of you has gone far toward making this story more fleshed out and keeps me enjoying the writing process for this AU. I am overwhelmed with your kind words, truly the feedback has been wonderful.
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this chapter, and maybe the cliffhanger ending won't be as bad ;) Some questions will finally be answered and more things will come into play in Chapters 8 & 9! 
> 
> [/end longest AN ever.]

> **"And sometimes our compass breaks  
>  And our steady true north fades.  
>  We’ll be just fine."**

* * *

 

June slipped easily into July and brought torrential rainfalls with it. Lady and Ghost spent their mornings napping under the rain-streaked window of the coffee house, while their owners busied themselves with morning rushes and afternoon lulls.

Theon kept everyone entertained with his theories involving climate change and the Illuminati, but the constant deluge of rain was beginning to wear on everyone’s spirits -- especially Sansa’s.

“How is it fair that while Arya is in Oregon, it’s sunny and summer, but here it’s the most depressing weather possible?” She asked Jon as they ran to his car during a particularly bad storm, Lady and Ghost tucked carefully under their arms.

“Maybe she’s taken up witchcraft,” Jon’s lips twitched. “Theon wouldn’t be surprised.”

Sansa laughed and put Lady on her blanket in the backseat and turned to Jon, “Do you think she’ll ever come back to Maine?”

It wasn’t a serious question. Even if Arya decided to stay on the West Coast, she was 18 and uninterested in college, it wasn't as though Sansa had ever expected her to come home. Sansa envied Arya the most of all her siblings -- her younger sister had always been so sure in who she was and the decisions she made that it caused Sansa to fill with bitter jealousy. Sansa was never sure where she belonged or if she was ever making the right decision or a horrible mistake.

“I doubt it,” Jon said, shrugging and putting the car in gear. “She always wanted to get out of Maine. Benjen says she’s basically a prodigy, she could make the Olympic trials.”

Jon’s face held an easy wistful look, like he too envied Arya and her ability to move on past Winterville. Jon had never seemed interested in leaving their home -- he had always respected his position within their family. For the first time, Sansa wondered what Jon’s goals and dreams were.

“I wonder if Mom will let me knock out the wall between our rooms then,” Sansa smirked, causing Jon to chuckle. 

“Not if Rickon beats you to it.” He replied easily, running a hand through his wild curls. 

Sansa’s eyes fixed on the movement -- how his fingers caused the curls to bend to their will, smoothing back the frizz caused by the constant humidity. His black hair was damp from the rain, and her eyes traced the few raindrops left on his neck. Not for the first time lately, Sansa longed for it to be her hands exploring the soft curls, the firm muscles of his neck, the callouses on his palms. 

“You okay?” Jon asked, briefly looking at her in concern.

She flushed pink, embarrassed to have been caught staring at  _ Jon _ of all people. 

“Just picturing where I will put my vanity when I take over Arya’s room,” She covered weakly, but if he suspected she was lying, he had the respect not to question it.

As they pulled into the drive, they saw the familiar Mercedes-Benz that could only mean one thing in the Stark home.

“Dad’s home!” Sansa squealed with delight, reaching around for Lady with one hand and her umbrella with the other. 

Jon followed her into the kitchen, both managing to get soaked in the short walk to the door. His white shirt clung to his arms in a way that made Sansa feel an uncomfortable heat stir in her stomach. At the sight of her father standing in the kitchen with her mother, Sansa momentarily forgot all about Jon’s toned torso.

“Daddy!” She ran to give him a hug, and Ned caught her with a grin on his face. 

“Sansa, have you been swimming fully clothed?” He chuckled with a bemused expression as she pulled back, examining her wet hair and jacket. “I thought I’d surprise you all, it’s been too long since we were all together.”

They leave the awkward pause alone. The last time they had all been together was when Sansa had still been sleeping in a hospital bed.

Jon leaned forward to shake Ned’s hand as he always did. “Is Robb with you?”

Ned smiled and gave a quick nod before turning back to his daughter, “Actually, your mother and I were just discussing our plans for the Fourth of July.”

In years past, the Starks always celebrated the Fourth together, but with the family split around the country, it seemed this would be the first year they all wouldn’t be in the same place. Sansa once regarded her family’s Independence Day traditions as tedious and irritating. Now, she wondered what her parents could possibly have planned to do in this monsoon weather.

“How would you both feel about a family trip?” At her father's words, Sansa noticed her mother shift slightly at the use of ‘family’ to include Jon, but she said nothing.

“A family trip? Where?” Sansa asked, glancing between both her parents, trying to ignore the awkward tension she had begun to sense lingering in the air around them.

“I’ve got to oversee the West Coast expansion this week in Oregon, I thought you all might want to see the sun again and maybe even your sister,” Ned grinned, looking to Jon as he said the last words. 

Turning to look at Jon’s face, Sansa saw the excitement she could barely contain at her father’s words peeking across his own features. 

“Are we staying with Uncle Benjen?” She asked, bouncing up and down. “When are we leaving? Is Bran coming?”

Catelyn stood, placing her hands on Sansa’s shoulders, “Yes, you will stay with your uncle. I’ll be visiting Aunt Lysa in Seattle for a couple of days with Rickon.” She turned to Jon. “I assume you can help with Bran, he’ll be flying in shortly after us.”

Jon nodded, “Of course.” 

At Jon’s words, Ned clapped his hands together, “Well, we are planning to leave tomorrow afternoon, so you have a little time to pack. Jon, I’ve already spoken to Theon about managing the shop. After I promised him a pay raise he warmed considerably to the idea.”

Chuckling, Jon said, “I’m sure he did.”

“You had both better get to packing. I think Robb’s in your room with Rickon, Jon. He mentioned something about Smash Brothers,” Ned said, shaking his head in acknowledgement that he would never understand his children or their affinity for video games.

Without further ado, Jon turned to charge up the stairs, and they could hear him open his bedroom door and loudly exclaim, “Prepare to die, Mega Man!”

Sansa grinned and turned back to her parents, who were both looking strained in the after-moments of their announcement of a spontaneous vacation.

“Is everything alright?” She asked, reaching down to pet Lady. 

Her father smiled easily at his eldest daughter, “Of course, sweetheart. It’s been a long few weeks in New York, is all. I’m looking forward to relaxing with you all.”

As Sansa went to climb the stairs, she still felt certain there was something her parents weren’t telling her -- something she and Jon had interrupted when they returned home. Her mother spending time with Aunt Lysa while the rest of the family would stay with Uncle Benjen was uncharacteristic for Catelyn Stark. 

When she entered her bedroom, she heard the sounds of Robb and Jon and Rickon battling it out on the Wii drift across the hall. She wondered if Jon would find the time for her this week or if he would be attached to her brothers again as though things between them hadn’t shifted during the last few weeks.

Sansa hated the vulnerable feeling in her chest -- Jon had said he wanted to be her friend and she wanted to trust him on his word, but she was frightened by how much she liked Jon as a person, and perhaps in other ways that she would never admit, not even to Lady.

She was finishing packing her belongings when a knock came on her open door and she looked up to find Jon, his hair pulled back and a dark red tshirt replacing his soaked white one from earlier. He leaned easily against the frame, and for a moment she was so transfixed, she didn’t even see Robb behind him, pulling on his jacket.

“Hey, sis, thanks for the big greeting,” Robb teased as Jon moved into Sansa’s room slightly to make room for him in the doorway. 

Robb embraced her swiftly, smelling as he always did, like cinnamon and mint. 

“It’s been so long I couldn’t remember what you looked like,” Sansa retorted, her own grin spreading across her cheeks. “I thought maybe you had forgotten about little ol’ me.”

“Jon’s right, you have gotten mouthy,” Robb laughed and Sansa whipped around to where Jon was holding up both hands in front of himself.

“In my defense, I believe the word I used was ‘funny’,” Jon said, laughing as Sansa threw a pair of socks she’d neglected to pack at his head.

“To-may-toe, to-mah-toe.” Robb laughed, shrugging at them both. “Anyway, little ol’ Sansa, we’re going to take a trip to Fort Kent to see what terrible film is on at the $2 cinema is this week -- you wanna go?” 

Sansa looked between the two, feeling like her heart might explode in her chest. In the past, they would never have bothered asking her, knowing they would be dismissed. Now, she looked to where Jon was staring at her, a light smile lining his handsome face.

“Let me grab a coat.”

 

.:.

 

They paid for their late night excursion the next morning when her parents went to drag them all out of bed to get ready for the drive to the airport. 

It had been the most fun Sansa had in a long time, sitting between them in the front of Robb’s old truck, left in storage so long dust that covered the dash stirred as he cranked the engine. When he moved to the city, he hadn’t needed the truck anymore, but he was too attached to sell it.

They listened to Robb’s tragic folk bands intermixed with his teenage punk phase and discussed their upcoming trip out west.

As she sat next to Jon, she felt his arm brush against hers several times, causing chills to ride up her spine. In the dark theater, she could hardly focus on whatever Mel Brooks film was playing as part of the comedy marathon, because Jon was so close that she could lean slightly and touch him. It was dizzying and she felt drunk on endorphins as they made their way home on the winding old roads in the downpour of rain.

The flight to Oregon was smooth, and Sansa was thoroughly happy to land somewhere the sun was shining. 

As they collected Lady, Ghost, Grey Wind, and Shaggy Dog, they heard someone calling their name. Turning, Sansa spotted her familiar uncle -- so like her father -- and her sister, her hair cut short and jeans baggier than ever.

Arya and Benjen hugged them each, and even Sansa got a quick, “Glad your brain wasn’t scrambled or whatever,” from her younger sister.

They all fell into step as they exited the airport, Jon on her left and Rickon loosely holding her right hand. Bran’s plane landed quickly after their own, and he joined them with Summer, hair longer than ever, but looking happier than Sansa had seen him in some time. 

Their parents waved over several taxi drivers to help load their suitcases and pet carriers into their vans while Benjen and Arya filled everyone in on how the fencing camp was progressing.

Sansa lost track of the conversation, but she looked to Jon, who was chatting animatedly and her heart leapt into her throat. She realized as he looked over to her, biting his bottom lip slightly and holding her gaze for a moment, that he had all the power in the world to wreck her. 

“I’ll help you up,” Jon said quietly after they had been waved over to the taxi. 

She looked up, her red hair falling across her face. He was inches from her, and his warm hand extended toward her. Her skirt made it precarious to climb up on the runner boards of the van, but he steadied her, hands on her hip, and Sansa felt like she might fall apart right there in that crowded and hectic parking lot if Jon Snow touched her for one second longer. 

Then his hands retreated as soon as they had come, as though he had been burned. He climbed in behind her, sitting on the other side of Rickon and pointedly not looking at her once during their trip to Benjen’s home.

She tried not to feel stung by this, throwing herself into conversation with Rickon, who was excited about fencing with Arya. 

They arrived to the sweeping grounds of her uncle’s private estate -- a place built upon years and years of hard work and a reputation for one of the most prestigious fencing training facilities in the world. The large main cabin would easily hold the Stark family and Benjen set about to showing their rooms. Sansa would be sharing with Arya, with Jon and Robb across the hall. Bran and Rickon would be together downstairs next to their mother and father. 

The Maine Coons relished in being all together once more, slipping outside into the late-afternoon sun to wait to begin their nightly hunt. 

As she unpacked, Sansa caught Arya staring out of their large window overlooking the training grounds. Her eyes were focused on a boy cleaning the fencing sabres, his shaggy brown hair obscuring most of his face from view.

“And who is that?” Sansa asked, poking Arya, who gave her a glare in return.

“It’s no one.” She said, avoiding eye contact.

“Mmhmm, and does no one work here?” Sansa asked, staring back down at the boy, who couldn’t be older than Jon, as he began placing the weapons back on their respective racks.

Arya, who never once held any interest in a boy, blushed pink, though she didn’t look happy about it. “His name is Gendry, okay. And yeah, he works here to pay off his training.”

She looked fiercely at her sister, as though daring her to laugh at Gendry. Sansa in the past might have done that, but now she looked back out at him and then to her sister. Arya looked nothing like her, her face was soft and round where Sansa’s was angular and sharp, but her eyes were kind and brown just like their father’s.

“Do you kick his ass?” Sansa asked, smiling to her sister.

Arya’s face changed to a wicked grin, “Everyday.”

That night they were treated to dinner at a local Italian restaurant and Sansa sat next to Jon on one side and Bran on the other. Jon seemed to have brushed off what happened earlier -- he engaged with her just as much as he did with Arya next to him, or Robb across from him. 

It was the first time in many years where Sansa felt like she was part of her family -- embraced, accepted, and loved by her siblings sitting next to her, chatting animatedly about the plane ride and the latest pop culture phenomenon.

As Jon handed her jacket over when they were preparing to leave, his fingers brushed across hers. 

“Thanks,” she said, smiling at him. “You want go for a walk when we get back? I’m pretty sure Arya is going to sneak out to meet Gendry and I don’t want to lie if I’m questioned later.”

She didn’t know what made her impulsively ask him, and with such a feeble excuse, but Jon laughed and nodded, “Sure, I’ll help keep your honor intact.”

After a quick round of goodnights from everyone, they slipped out back, heading for a beaten path into the tall pine tree woods surrounding Benjen’s estate. Sansa wasn’t prepared for it to just be the two of them alone. 

“Did I upset you earlier?” She asked, giving into the vain and curious part of herself.

Jon stopped in surprise, “What?”

“In the taxi,” She nudged. “You didn’t say a word to me the entire ride.”

He looked down at his feet then, “I was talking to Arya, just catching up.” 

She watched him shift, almost uncomfortably, and when she reached out to touch his shoulder, he jumped. His brown eyes met hers in the fading light of sunset, but he held her gaze evenly.

“What’s wrong with you tonight? Honestly, Jon, you can tell me.” She said softly, examining his face, which gave way to the signs of a battle raging inside of him.  
  
He laughed, a bitter and humorless sound, “Sansa… If I told you, you wouldn’t believe me."

Feeling braver than she probably should, she took a step toward him, and whispered, “Why wouldn’t I believe you?”

Not moving away from her, he tore his gaze off her face and back down before saying, “I made a promise to myself, I can’t just break it.”

“What sort of promise?” She asked, raising her free hand to his cheek, gently nudging his gaze back toward her. Jon, who was always so composed and never allowed too many emotions to show, now looked as vulnerable as Sansa felt.

“That I wouldn’t hurt you -- That I wouldn’t,” He sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair. “That I wouldn’t touch you or look at you more than a brother should.”

Sansa placed her hand in his hair and studied his face carefully, “You aren’t my brother, Jon. I never pretended you were as a child, why on earth would I start to now?”

At her words, his eyes snapped to her lips, as though this was the blessing he required from her. 

“I want you to break your promise.” She breathed, looking toward his mouth.  


In sealing the distance between them, he did. His lips met hers with a hungry ferocity, and she matched him, knowing his grip on her waist might result in bruises. He tasted like pasta and mint and she reveled in the warmth of his lips, his hands, his skin upon her own.

She let out a breathy moan against his mouth, her hands exploring his soft curls as he cradled her face in his palm. 

Hours might have passed in that small clearing as she finally took what she wanted for herself rather than what she thought others would want for her. Jon’s arms felt strong and wonderful under her fingers, and she thought of how Joffrey had felt -- too sharp and too cold -- and felt immeasurably grateful to have been given this second chance. 

The broke apart, breathing heavy. 

“I--” He began but she cut him off.

“Do not say you shouldn’t have done that, or I will be pissed,” She said heatedly. 

He looked sheepish, “Your parents have been good to me, I would hate for my feelings to cause a problem for you.”

Sansa blinked at him, then she pulled him close again, “If my parents have a problem with  _ our _ feelings for each other, we’ll figure it out… Together.”

Jon leaned in to kiss her forehead, “Yeah,” he breathed, “Together.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up: We pick up directly after the end of Chapter 7, but from Jon's POV and enjoy the Fourth of July with the Starks, Jon, and Gendry. I am really enjoying writing the Stark family as a whole, there will be more Bran next chapter as well! :D


	8. west, pt ii.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon longed for the day when he could kiss her the way he wished to in that moment -- openly and happily. Instead he settled for her hand on his and turned his gaze skyward to enjoy the warm breeze and fireworks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so first I am SO SORRY this took so long. I got really sick for about a week and a half and then I got paralyzed at the thought of publishing this chapter knowing it could be polarizing. I hope you all enjoy it. The last four chapters will be quite the ride. Forgive any errors, I'm still a little out of it.
> 
> As always THANK YOU for your reviews, you guys are so awesome!

 

 

> **"We’ll be just fine.**  
>  **We’ll be just fine.**  
>  **We’ll be just fine,**  
>  **I know that we will.**  
>  **I just know we will."**

* * *

 

Jon found it hard to keep from stumbling as he followed Sansa out of the dense trees and back toward their cabin in the dark stillness of the midnight hour. Punch drunk on her perfume and the feel of her hand in his, he didn’t allow his thoughts to linger on whatever the morning might bring. For the first time, Jon forgot about duty and honor and even family and instead he focused on kissing Sansa every few steps.

The thrill of her giggles under his own curved lips made his heart swell and threaten to burst, and he cherished each of her fingers as they ran through his the curls of his hair.

“Remember when you were 16 and Theon kept bragging about all the girls he kissed in High Landing?” She asked suddenly, pulling away to stare up at him through her bright blue irises.

Of course he remembered it -- Theon always had this weird need to impress Robb, and so chose to regale them with all manners of stories about girls and women throwing themselves up on him.

“Yeah,” Jon chuckled. “You told him you were quite sure with a face like that the only practice he was getting was with his hand at night.”

Sansa flushed, “I was so horrible.”

Brushing a lock of hair from her face, he leaned forward to kiss her forehead gently. “To be fair, Theon totally deserved that. Why did you ask?”

The blush in her cheeks turned a deeper crimson in the pale light of the moon, “Because I remember Robb laughing and boasting himself, but you never said anything.”

Jon shrugged, “Honestly, it wasn’t their damn business. Besides, I knew Theon would give any girl I decided to kiss behind the bleachers total hell.”

Squaring her shoulders, Sansa smiled back up at him and flipped her long hair behind her shoulders, “I would love to see him try.”

They quietly made their way back into the house and Jon gave her a last silent kiss at the door to her shared room. She waved him goodnight before he made his own way back toward the room he was sharing with Robb.

“Jesus, are you actually _smiling_?” Robb’s gruff voice asked, half asleep, and in whipping his head up, Jon watched as he propped himself up on an elbow. “Where the hell have you been? It’s like 3 a.m.”

Jon tried to school his expression, but found he couldn’t remember what life was like before he had kissed Sansa in between unfamiliar pine trees and felt his blood flow like fire through his veins.

“Actually, I probably don’t want to know whatever depraved thing you’ve drug Arya into tonight,” Robb said, rolling his eyes. “Don’t think anyone missed her climbing out her window earlier. I’m sure Sansa was thrilled.”

Jon kept his back to Robb as he pulled on his pajamas so as to not give away the lie as he said, “Yeah, Arya’s never exactly had the market on subtlety cornered.”

Thankfully, Robb dropped the topic and laid back down to sleep as Jon flipped the light switch and crawled onto his own twin-sized bed. He found his thoughts drifting to Sansa, wondering what she was doing in her surely half-empty room now. Before long, Jon’s thoughts of red hair and lemon scented perfume blended into dreams of long kisses and the warmth of her soft skin under his calloused fingers.

“Get up you lazy bastard!”

The sudden yell caused Jon to jerk back into consciousness after what felt like about four hours of sleep.

Arya’s face hovered blurred above him and in grabbing his glasses, the mischievous glint in her eye came into focus. He sat up, scratching his head and wondering why he liked her at all.

“You and Gendry have a good time last night, then?” He smirked, throwing the blankets off of his torso and swinging his feet over the edge of the bed.

Arya’s pale cheeks flushed a deep and angry crimson as she looked pointedly at her stubby fingernails and huffed, “Sansa never could keep a fucking secret.”

“Well, sis, if you want to keep a secret, it helps to not scale down the side of the house using sheets like you’re in some kind of teen comedy film,” Jon laughed as he stood and stretched out his back.

Robb’s bed was neatly made up, and in looking at the clock Jon realized it was well past 10.

“Well I feel better about being gracious and letting Robb wake her up this morning then,” Arya shrugged.

Sansa wasn’t like Arya in the mornings -- Arya hated being awake before noon. Or she had, Jon supposed, before she had a reason to get to the mess hall every day before her training started. Sansa on the whole didn’t respond well to being forcibly woken, however, and Robb on many occasions was tasked with getting her out of bed as he was the most patient with the “Resident fucking Princess,” as Arya so often put it.

Ghost made his way through the doorway with Nymeria close behind, both eagerly batting at a stray piece of string hanging off Jon’s comforter.

“Anyway, I came to get you up. Mom already left so you can eat your breakfast free from Catelyn Stark’s trademarked disapproving eye,” Arya grinned, sitting down on the bed to pet the two cats tumbling around her feet.

Jon had always felt very uncomfortable with Arya’s casual dismissal of her mother’s treatment of him -- mostly because he knew Arya had plenty of problems with being a girl in the Stark family. She never cared about frilly things like Sansa, and had a hard time relating to a mother who wanted more than a fencing champion for a daughter.

A knock came on the door frame and both Jon and Arya found themselves surprised to see Sansa and Robb looking chipper and far too awake.

“You look like shit,” Robb grinned to Jon, who shot him the bird as he dragged a fresh tshirt over his torso.

“Ah, this is the familial affection I have missed since moving 3,000 miles away,” Arya replied, placing her face in her hands in a mocking affectionate way.

Jon, however, was having a hard time concentrating on anyone but Sansa, whose red hair was fixed into a plait tied into an elaborate bun. Her face bore no signs of the late night they'd experienced the night before. He found her eyes on him, watching carefully, almost as if she were asking if everything turn out okay in the end.

“Listen, I would love to carry on in this truly heartwarming moment, but I need to put pants on, so if you could kindly fuck off,” Jon said, looking to Robb and Arya, and finally to Sansa with a wink the others missed. “I would be delighted to join you all downstairs. Where there better be coffee.”

Arya got up off the bed easily and punched him in the arm, “I remember when you used to be the nice one.”

“Lost out on that trophy to Rickon, I guess,” Jon laughed as he shut the door behind them, his eyes finding Sansa to try and tell her that, yes, of course things would be alright.

After managing to put himself together for the day, he met up with the Starks downstairs as well as Gendry, who had no family to return to for the holiday weekend.

“So what is there to do around here?” Sansa asked, passing a cup of coffee to Jon as he walked by her.

As the caffeine hit his lips, Jon perked up to the thought of doing anything other than sleeping the day away. He observed Robb’s bemused expression at Arya of all people sitting so close to a boy her own age. Jon wondered if Gendry had any idea what he was getting himself into.

“We could always go downtown for the Fourth Festival,” Gendry said quietly before Sansa turned a curious gaze to him. “It’s like a parade -- there are food trucks and fireworks and everything.”

Jon had taken a seat between Bran and Sansa, sipping his coffee easily and trying not to let himself get too distracted by the faint smell of Sansa’s perfume.

“Well, we don’t have Rickon, so we can stay out as late as we want,” Sansa grinned, and Jon found himself thankful for the change in her all over again. The other Stark kids still seemed wary of this new and improved Sansa, as though she might regress at any moment, but at least they were giving her a chance.

“Sansa seems… Different.” Bran whispered to Jon, who turned in surprise to read Bran’s impassive face.

Jon shrugged a little, “I think she’s figured out what really matters to her.”

For a brief moment Bran studied Jon’s face and added with a small smile, “Or whom.”

Before Jon could respond, the others began to stand to start clearing away the remains of their breakfast before heading out for the day.

Sansa caught Jon’s arm as he followed Arya and Gendry behind Robb pushing Bran out toward the courtyard. She was waiting in the small laundry room, a wicked smile on her face as she pushed her lips against his.

Jon gave in easily to her, melting into her touch. His fingers brushed the soft back of her neck, holding her close to him as they moved in unison.

When she pulled away, she said, “We should get back before they notice we’re gone.” All he had time to do was nod before she had headed back into the hall.

Like a hurricane, Sansa had managed to wreck him completely in the way she blew into his life. Her presence at his side caused a cascade of emotions to crash down on him as they made their way to join the rest of her family.

The streets of downtown Portland were packed with festival goers, decked out in red, white, and blue. Jon navigated Bran through the crowds carefully as Arya and Gendry walked ahead, hands brushing often enough for it not to be a coincidence.

Sansa made them all stop to have their likenesses drawn by a caricature artist on the sidewalk, where Arya laid across their laps and Gendry made bunny ears behind her head, while the others laughed. Pulling out the cash to purchase the artwork, Sansa grinned effortlessly at Jon, who felt that he might float right off with the lightness in his stomach.

“So tell me, did you replace Sansa with a robot or what?” Arya asked Jon point blank while her sister had taken Bran to get ice creams for everyone. Robb looked over in curiosity as well at Jon’s schooled expression.

“Honestly, I know she could be difficult,” Jon began.

“A raging bitch, you mean,” Arya supplied helpfully as Robb chuckled.

“I think she was just lonely.” Jon shrugged, not really wanting to get into this right now, while Sansa was fifty feet away, pointing out ice cream flavors with Bran. “She just felt like an outsider in her own family.”

Arya scoffed a little, but Jon raised an eyebrow, “Well, it’s not really like you had much in common, is it? It’s not Sansa’s fault she had different interests than you or Bran.”

Robb looked pensive at Jon’s point and in a distracted tone he added, “I’m glad she got away from the Lannisters before they could sink their teeth into her fully.”

“Amen to that,” Arya said, watching her siblings as they returned with their assortment of ice creams.

“Mint for Robb,” Sansa recited, handing the cone over, “Cookie dough for Gendry, vanilla milkshake for Jon, and cayenne chocolate for Arya because she doesn’t love herself.”

“Says the person eating lemon cookie ice cream,” Arya retorted, taking a lick of her own ice cream.

As the day passed by, Jon found himself watching Arya and Gendry with envy -- they could flirt and tiptoe playfully around each other all day, while Sansa and Jon ensured they never gave the others any cause for suspicion. It was torturous, to be so close and feel a hundred miles apart under the warm sun as couples surrounded them.

Gathering in a local park to view the fireworks, Sansa sat next to Jon, stretching her pale legs out and laying back to look up at the sky. Robb was engrossed in a conversation with Bran about the best iteration of Star Trek.

“Obviously it’s Next Generation,” Robb said in exasperation.

“I think you’ll find that the original series did a lot for the canon of the show in the larger Trek universe, and the original crew paved the way for the future of Star Trek to flourish in a way none of the other shows could,” Bran countered.

Arya and Gendry were walking around the park together, not even a bit ashamed of the little attention they were paying their company.

“It’s nice, isn’t it?” Sansa asked, turning to look at Jon in the dying light of sunset. “Being away from Maine.”

Jon nodded, “Yeah, I always wanted to move out West.”

The act of voicing this secret desire surprised even him, as he had never really entertained it as an actual possibility.

“Why didn’t you?” Sansa asked quietly, pushing her sunglasses up into her bangs, revealing the scar that had only recently begun to fade.

Shrugging, Jon began to pick at the grass surrounding him, “Seemed crazy. I used to want to open my own place, like a bookstore and coffee shop. I’ve been saving money for a couple of years, but I don’t know, it probably sounds stupid.”

Sansa’s hand enveloped his own, and warmth of her touch caused him to look up at her.

“I don’t think that it sounds stupid at all,” She said in sincerity. “I’ve been reading a lot about business lately.”

“I noticed,” Jon admitted. “I didn’t think it really interested you.”

She looked at him then, and for a fleeting moment she looked as vulnerable as she had in her hospital bed.

“It didn’t,” She looked down at their hands. “But since I started working in the shop and helping Osha and Gilly with the baking, I feel like I finally found something useful that I’m actually good at. I’ve been looking into opening my own bakery someday.”

The conversation was cut off by the first of the fireworks being shot off in the distance and as the bright reds and golds exploded in the sky Jon watched Sansa’s face. Her pale features were lit up under the night sky with joy as she watched the display.

"I think you should," He said to her over the sound of the fireworks. She looked back in surprise and gratitude that he hadn't mocked her or told her how impossible it would be.

Jon longed for the day when he could kiss her the way he wished to in that moment -- openly and happily. Instead he settled for her hand on his and turned his gaze skyward to enjoy the warm breeze and fireworks.

As they all made their way back into the cabin later than night, Bran stopped Jon after he had been helped into bed.

“Look, I know you and Sansa have gotten pretty close lately,” He put up a hand to stop Jon from protesting. “Don’t deny it or anything, I don’t care. I’ve just been thinking about her accident and I think there’s more to it than mom and dad told us.”

Jon’s eyebrows furrowed, “What do you mean?”

“Some of her symptoms are more likely to be caused by the presence of both alcohol and prescription drugs,” Bran said. “I don’t… If the Lannisters know about it, it could be bad for Sansa. I don’t even read the gossip websites, but even I know they’ve been saying some pretty terrible things about her lately. Just… Look out for her, okay?”

Jon moved Bran’s wheelchair to its proper place and turned back to him, “Have you spoken to your parents about this?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But if she did have something else in her system, Dad was her medical power of attorney. He would definitely know about anything in her test results.”

Before Jon could respond, Arya and Robb came bursting into the room, looking almost comical with their worried expressions.

“What’s wrong--” Jon started, but suddenly Arya’s phone was thrust under his nose open to the front page of a popular gossip blog site.

“ _PILLHEAD PRINCESS OF NYC”_ glared above a picture of Sansa coming out of her apartment building earlier that year.

“ _As Ned Stark, CEO of Winterfell Enterprises, tirelessly campaigned to gain a foothold for his struggling business in New York, perhaps he should have considered paying closer attention to what his children do in their spare time._

_Sansa Stark, who caused headlines two months ago with a highly publicized accident involving her then-boyfriend Joffrey Baratheon’s Rolls Royce, has been revealed to not be quite the daddy’s girl the Stark family would have the public believe._

_‘She was at clubs every other weekend,’ an insider source tells us. ‘She would go to the bathroom and come back shoving pill bottles back into her purse.’_

_Indeed, experts in prescription drug abuse cite her accident as a culmination of her alleged drug use._

_‘It would certainly help to explain her actions,’ says one such expert. ‘Stealing a car shows how grave her addiction truly may be, especially if she chooses to mix prescription drugs with alcohol.’_

_Staff at the hospital where the eldest Stark girl was treated after her accident confirm her test results showed a cocktail of anxiety-related drugs. Perhaps this dangerous addiction is the result of having an absent father during the crucial developmental stages in her life?_

_Following the accident, the Stark family has mostly remained out of the spotlight, a move made too little too late by Ned Stark--”_

Jon stopped reading, his fists clenched in rage as he looked up to the three Starks surrounding him.

“It’s the Lannisters,” Robb said. “They threatened Dad right before we came out West. He wanted to get Sansa away from the East Coast, but he didn’t tell me why.”

Still shaking, Jon looked to Arya, “Has she seen this yet?”

Arya shook her head looking genuinely concerned, “No, but she won’t be able to avoid it. People online are really enjoying what they see as one of America’s sweethearts being exposed.”

Jon grabbed his jacket off the back of Bran’s wheelchair and turned to face the door.

“Where are you going?” Arya asked.

“To see your dad. Robb, you better come too in case I need an attorney.” Robb gave him a surprised look and nodded. Jon turned back to Arya and Bran, “Do not let her see that bullshit before we get back, do you understand me?”

Taken aback by Jon’s tone, they both nodded silently.

“We’ll be back tomorrow, and if she asks where we went, tell her your dad needed Robb and I for business stuff.” Jon didn’t wait for a response before he went out to the courtyard to call a taxi.

“I honestly didn’t know,” Robb said, taking in the anger on Jon’s face.

“I believe you,” Jon said quietly. “But your dad did. It’s why he brought her out here, and I intend on finding out what the fuck we’re supposed to do now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: Jon, Robb and Ned meet and secrets come to light, meanwhile Arya, Gendry, and Bran try to distract Sansa from the gaping Jon-shaped absence.


End file.
